![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
louiseluxFandom: Saiyuki
Title: Confluence
Rating: mild m/m
Notes: for the timestamp challenge: this is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
emungere and i_am_zan, who both wanted a story set sometime after the events of Solitary. Because they both wanted different times, I cheated a bit and smooshed them together. This is set ten years after the events of the story and five years after James and Oren get out.
Summary: ten years later.
Confluence
He worked in construction. The bosses liked him and today they'd told him he could stay on after this project was finished, if he wanted. They liked his style, whatever that meant. They didn't ask too many questions.
He stopped off for a beer on the way home, just like he did most nights, somewhere different each night, just in case. It cleared the dust from his throat and it let him sit, alone and unbothered, drinking his beer, sometimes in gulps and sometimes in sips, always at the back of his mind thinking about going home.
There was a battered TV sitting on a bracket high over the counter in this place, tuned to the news channel. Someone fired up the jukebox and so he couldn't hear what the report said, he only saw that face: golden eyes staring down at him as Wild Horses drifted to the middle eight.
The eye colour didn't show up so good on the screen, but he knew the exact shade, like honey in a jar. Eyes that made you take a second look. That looked old in that young face. Still young, even though he hadn't seen it for more than five years.
The last time he'd seen it was that final morning, the four of them sitting in their corner of the day room waiting for the hours to pass until James's plan clicked into place. His palms had been wet with sweat all that time. No one had said much and the fucking priest had pocketed Oren's last pack of smokes. I need them more than you do, he'd said, and then he'd looked right into Oren's eyes, like he never usually did. He could still remember the shock of that.
He picked up a newspaper from the stand near the bank, then ran for the bus. He didn't need to, but it felt good on a night like this. Icy air seeped through his jeans like freezing water, making his thighs feel like two sides of frozen ham, and his work boots clumped on the concrete. The doors snapped shut behind his shoulders.
They lived in a redbrick house on the corner, for now. It had a white-painted porch and big windows. Oren liked it. He'd never lived anywhere like it before. They were moving up in the world, he'd said, and James had agreed very seriously: yes, they were indeed.
The house was solid and just big enough and Oren liked stepping off the bus at his stop and walking down the street towards it, seeing it get closer, swinging his door key on its ring. The ring was a plastic fob, given away free by an Indian restaurant in town. Shimla Brothers. They had only been there once. It didn't pay to get too regular about things.
The lights were on and there was the silver Hyundai parked on the driveway. When he opened his front door, the smell of cooking chilli wafted out. Nothing fancy, just simple stuff to eat most nights.
He closed the door and took his boots off, leaving them lined up together, an old habit hard to break. They sat next to a briefcase: black leather, which Oren had blown a week's wages on it, must've been four years ago now. His first paycheck since they got free, because that first year had been rough. It had been worth it though.
The hallway was dark but the kitchen was lit up with the little halogen lights Oren had fitted about six months ago, like they were going to stay or something. The radio chattered and babbled over the sounds of cooking and faintly steamy air warmed his face.
James was humming to himself, leaning over the kitchen counter and running his finger down the page of a cookbook. He had his apron on. Oren leaned against the door frame and watched. He wondered if they were going to talk about it.
"Don't stare at the back of my head," James said, eventually.
"Who said it was your head I was staring at?"
James looked over his shoulder. Oren couldn't say he'd changed all that much, not really. There were threads of white mixed with his dark hair and the lines had deepened around his eyes, but they were still young. Nearly.
"You're home early," Oren said, gnawing at his lip, closing his eyes and seeing the dumb headline: Two Escape. Cops Say, Stay Away
"I took a half day."
James never took holidays, unless they were the kind that involved upping sticks overnight and moving across the county line.
"So. You saw the news."
James nodded.
"Dinner's soon. You should wash."
Afterwards Oren watched football on the TV, some game he didn't even care about, but it had men running about after a ball so it was okay. James dozed off, head on Oren's shoulder and his breathing slow and soft. Oren was glad he could sleep, specially tonight.
"Wake up," he said, much later. His shoulder was stiff from James weight, but he hadn't been able to make himself move.
"Mmhn."
"Time for bed, baby," Oren said.
Lying together in bed, face to face, Oren could see the dim whites of his eyes in the dark. He was reminded of another room and another, narrower, bed. The same man.
"Oren."
"They're coming here, aren't they?" Oren said.
Cool fingers touched Oren's jawline, running along it up into his hair. James's toes were cold on his. Bad circulation. He needed bed socks or something like that.
"Yes."
James was like the spooky house in the neighbourhood, like the one you couldn't stop looking at as a kid. The one that frightens you and draws you near, both at the same time.
"So." He closed his eyes as James stroked his hair back from his face. "Where the hell we gonna keep 'em? In the attic?"
"I was thinking the basement."
"You're crazy."
"You've said that before."
"Yeah, and I meant it then, too."
James was silent for a while. A car swished by in the street and James felt his fingers pause, then move again as it carried on by.
"Oren," James said, fingertips skating over Oren's bare shoulders now, a light touch that seemed to be the only thing Oren could concentrate on. "I need to see them."
Oren got that. It was maybe the only thing about this whole thing-- the four of them-- that he did get. Maybe the only thing in his entire life.
"We'll need to move on," he said. "It's gonna look pretty conspicuous."
"We can disguise ourselves."
"Hair dye, check. Beard, check. Four crazy escaped criminals, check."
James was trembling against him.
"Oren. It won't be so bad," he whispered. "It won't."
Like he was trying to convince himself. Oren put an arm round his waist and pulled him close and James moved, fitting himself to Oren's body.
"So we run. And then what?"
"We can move right out, away from the cities. I always wanted a farm, you know."
"A farm. Fuck. What do we do now?" Oren said.
He heard James's breathy laugh and heard one low word.
"Fuck?"
"Oh yeah. Yes."
James kissed him, even before he'd finished speaking, pushing him back into the pillows. They rolled and moved together and it seemed like James wanted to touch him everywhere he could reach. Then Oren was on his stomach and James was kissing his shoulders, soft wet kisses that trailed down his spine.
"I want you," he said softly, right against Oren's skin. "I want you."
James on top of him and inside him, deep inside, so he could feel the hot slide and drag of every thrust. He hadn't even known he'd like it, till it happened one night and it got him harder and hotter than anything else he'd ever done.
James panted in his ear, one hand fisted in the sheets above Oren's head, the other tangled with Oren's own as they stroked his cock. Slow, hard, taking their time. It still felt like a luxury.
"I'm sorry," James gasped, and then his hips jerked and he moaned, moving rougher and faster. "Oren. Oh God."
"Don't be," Oren managed to say, because there was nothing to be sorry for.
It was good. So good, and they were going to be together again. He came, thinking of them.
Title: Confluence
Rating: mild m/m
Notes: for the timestamp challenge: this is for
emungere and i_am_zan, who both wanted a story set sometime after the events of Solitary. Because they both wanted different times, I cheated a bit and smooshed them together. This is set ten years after the events of the story and five years after James and Oren get out.Summary: ten years later.
Confluence
He worked in construction. The bosses liked him and today they'd told him he could stay on after this project was finished, if he wanted. They liked his style, whatever that meant. They didn't ask too many questions.
He stopped off for a beer on the way home, just like he did most nights, somewhere different each night, just in case. It cleared the dust from his throat and it let him sit, alone and unbothered, drinking his beer, sometimes in gulps and sometimes in sips, always at the back of his mind thinking about going home.
There was a battered TV sitting on a bracket high over the counter in this place, tuned to the news channel. Someone fired up the jukebox and so he couldn't hear what the report said, he only saw that face: golden eyes staring down at him as Wild Horses drifted to the middle eight.
The eye colour didn't show up so good on the screen, but he knew the exact shade, like honey in a jar. Eyes that made you take a second look. That looked old in that young face. Still young, even though he hadn't seen it for more than five years.
The last time he'd seen it was that final morning, the four of them sitting in their corner of the day room waiting for the hours to pass until James's plan clicked into place. His palms had been wet with sweat all that time. No one had said much and the fucking priest had pocketed Oren's last pack of smokes. I need them more than you do, he'd said, and then he'd looked right into Oren's eyes, like he never usually did. He could still remember the shock of that.
He picked up a newspaper from the stand near the bank, then ran for the bus. He didn't need to, but it felt good on a night like this. Icy air seeped through his jeans like freezing water, making his thighs feel like two sides of frozen ham, and his work boots clumped on the concrete. The doors snapped shut behind his shoulders.
They lived in a redbrick house on the corner, for now. It had a white-painted porch and big windows. Oren liked it. He'd never lived anywhere like it before. They were moving up in the world, he'd said, and James had agreed very seriously: yes, they were indeed.
The house was solid and just big enough and Oren liked stepping off the bus at his stop and walking down the street towards it, seeing it get closer, swinging his door key on its ring. The ring was a plastic fob, given away free by an Indian restaurant in town. Shimla Brothers. They had only been there once. It didn't pay to get too regular about things.
The lights were on and there was the silver Hyundai parked on the driveway. When he opened his front door, the smell of cooking chilli wafted out. Nothing fancy, just simple stuff to eat most nights.
He closed the door and took his boots off, leaving them lined up together, an old habit hard to break. They sat next to a briefcase: black leather, which Oren had blown a week's wages on it, must've been four years ago now. His first paycheck since they got free, because that first year had been rough. It had been worth it though.
The hallway was dark but the kitchen was lit up with the little halogen lights Oren had fitted about six months ago, like they were going to stay or something. The radio chattered and babbled over the sounds of cooking and faintly steamy air warmed his face.
James was humming to himself, leaning over the kitchen counter and running his finger down the page of a cookbook. He had his apron on. Oren leaned against the door frame and watched. He wondered if they were going to talk about it.
"Don't stare at the back of my head," James said, eventually.
"Who said it was your head I was staring at?"
James looked over his shoulder. Oren couldn't say he'd changed all that much, not really. There were threads of white mixed with his dark hair and the lines had deepened around his eyes, but they were still young. Nearly.
"You're home early," Oren said, gnawing at his lip, closing his eyes and seeing the dumb headline: Two Escape. Cops Say, Stay Away
"I took a half day."
James never took holidays, unless they were the kind that involved upping sticks overnight and moving across the county line.
"So. You saw the news."
James nodded.
"Dinner's soon. You should wash."
Afterwards Oren watched football on the TV, some game he didn't even care about, but it had men running about after a ball so it was okay. James dozed off, head on Oren's shoulder and his breathing slow and soft. Oren was glad he could sleep, specially tonight.
"Wake up," he said, much later. His shoulder was stiff from James weight, but he hadn't been able to make himself move.
"Mmhn."
"Time for bed, baby," Oren said.
Lying together in bed, face to face, Oren could see the dim whites of his eyes in the dark. He was reminded of another room and another, narrower, bed. The same man.
"Oren."
"They're coming here, aren't they?" Oren said.
Cool fingers touched Oren's jawline, running along it up into his hair. James's toes were cold on his. Bad circulation. He needed bed socks or something like that.
"Yes."
James was like the spooky house in the neighbourhood, like the one you couldn't stop looking at as a kid. The one that frightens you and draws you near, both at the same time.
"So." He closed his eyes as James stroked his hair back from his face. "Where the hell we gonna keep 'em? In the attic?"
"I was thinking the basement."
"You're crazy."
"You've said that before."
"Yeah, and I meant it then, too."
James was silent for a while. A car swished by in the street and James felt his fingers pause, then move again as it carried on by.
"Oren," James said, fingertips skating over Oren's bare shoulders now, a light touch that seemed to be the only thing Oren could concentrate on. "I need to see them."
Oren got that. It was maybe the only thing about this whole thing-- the four of them-- that he did get. Maybe the only thing in his entire life.
"We'll need to move on," he said. "It's gonna look pretty conspicuous."
"We can disguise ourselves."
"Hair dye, check. Beard, check. Four crazy escaped criminals, check."
James was trembling against him.
"Oren. It won't be so bad," he whispered. "It won't."
Like he was trying to convince himself. Oren put an arm round his waist and pulled him close and James moved, fitting himself to Oren's body.
"So we run. And then what?"
"We can move right out, away from the cities. I always wanted a farm, you know."
"A farm. Fuck. What do we do now?" Oren said.
He heard James's breathy laugh and heard one low word.
"Fuck?"
"Oh yeah. Yes."
James kissed him, even before he'd finished speaking, pushing him back into the pillows. They rolled and moved together and it seemed like James wanted to touch him everywhere he could reach. Then Oren was on his stomach and James was kissing his shoulders, soft wet kisses that trailed down his spine.
"I want you," he said softly, right against Oren's skin. "I want you."
James on top of him and inside him, deep inside, so he could feel the hot slide and drag of every thrust. He hadn't even known he'd like it, till it happened one night and it got him harder and hotter than anything else he'd ever done.
James panted in his ear, one hand fisted in the sheets above Oren's head, the other tangled with Oren's own as they stroked his cock. Slow, hard, taking their time. It still felt like a luxury.
"I'm sorry," James gasped, and then his hips jerked and he moaned, moving rougher and faster. "Oren. Oh God."
"Don't be," Oren managed to say, because there was nothing to be sorry for.
It was good. So good, and they were going to be together again. He came, thinking of them.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 01:53 pm (UTC)Not at all coherent, as ever. I love it, though. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 01:57 pm (UTC)That. Is. So. Hot.
I like all the details about how they live their life now... and both Oren and James don't really feel complete without the other two. That's a very nice touch. They're stronger together than apart.
Yay! It wasn't my request but I very much enjoyed it anyway. Fabulous story.
...it occurs to me that I should be disturbed about finding jail and criminals hot... but anything you write is hot, so *meh* It's all good.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-21 11:52 am (UTC)somehow saiyuki isnt complete without all of them.
i mean all 4 of them.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 01:25 am (UTC)*checks date* Yes. Yes it has.
Anyway, I'm not sure you are aware of this, but... I go back and reread a lot of your stories over and over. And over.
Solitary and Confluence are two of my favorites (as well as Soapland, Stripper!Gojyo, Copper Red and Bad Mr. Cho [omg have I ever told you that you have pure talent with the student/teacher scenarios??]).
Um... yeah. LOL oops, didn't mean to start gushing all over you (or maybe I did). Anyway... Happy New Year! *hug* Thanks for the stories in all their fabulous, rereadable glory.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:03 pm (UTC)It is tempting to write more, but there is just so much of it and I have too many ideas. It's better in small chunks!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 03:21 pm (UTC)~ flails ~
I just have to know more! How did James & Oren get hooked up with the other two while in prison? (did you give Sanzo & Goku names in prison?) How did James & Oren escape? Details, Woman, Details!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:07 pm (UTC)Thank you :)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:12 pm (UTC)video
Date: 2007-01-29 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 04:58 pm (UTC)I loved the connection Oren had with the Priest. Its the same...Its exactly the same...*squee* how Gojyo and Sanzo are. and more Gaiden than ever, how Konzen and Kenren are.
...and also since Gaiden they needed to be together again. and they will be and that's all that matters really.
Absolute ly gorgeous. I could say more...although the word 'gush' comes to mind...so I won't.
If ever there's is anything I could possibly do for you...ask and I will bloody try!!! *sends a tonne of good karma over and some tea* ^_______^
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:27 pm (UTC)You don't have to do anything for me - it was a pleasure to write this, I really mean that.
Oddly, I didn't really think about Gaiden when writing this, but maybe it all comes through despite that, and I do rely on that factor of eternal fate for this to all make sense.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 06:03 pm (UTC)"Who said it was your head I was staring at?"
Heee. ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:37 pm (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 07:09 pm (UTC)Sorry, maybe first I should introduce myself. I hope you don't mind I recently friended you; it's been a while since I read your fics and all of them are wonderful. So, hello! :)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:44 pm (UTC)Complicity - yes, that's often what I do with Gojyo and Hakkai. I don't think I had conciously quite thought that before, so thank you for enlightening me!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 10:46 pm (UTC)And - pervy moment here - Hakkai coming too quickly was just about the horniest thing I think I've read since Solitary! Guh! You are so great, there aren't even words.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 12:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 09:58 pm (UTC)And when it's in the hands of someone as effortlessly amazing as you, it's equivalent to mind blowing!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-29 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 09:32 am (UTC)Just gorgeous. I will never stop hoping for more of this story.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-30 12:15 pm (UTC)There is more in my head, so maybe it will come out properly one day
no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 10:20 am (UTC)They are all imbalanced and it makes me feel really bad for doing that to them. Hmmm. Probably I empathise with my characters too much.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-16 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-09 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 10:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 10:53 am (UTC)I did try and mess with who was who a little. I don't think it's immediately clear that Teardrop is just Teardrop, for instance. He might be Hakkai, in another life.
Glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-14 11:49 pm (UTC)Btw, James is a PERFECT name for Hakkai. It's so...common and innocuous that it really fits the deceptive nature of his character.
I really like this story a lot, and I hope that, since you have more in your head, you will write more of it when you can. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 10:56 am (UTC)I hope I get time to write more, too.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 09:21 pm (UTC)I was so hoping for more of solitaire and I only now had time to read it.
Your characterisations are so spot one, I can see it all happening in front of me. Your AU pulls me in just as much as the canon does.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-09 05:09 pm (UTC)I definitely LOVE your fic.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-27 10:40 pm (UTC)